In Rizal Park, there is a strange stone placed in the ground and surrounded by railings. This stones commemorates the shocking conditions of the poorest of the poor, the most forgotten. At this stone, every 17th of the month, volunteers of the ATD Fourth World Association meet for inspiration as they struggle to walk with the outcasts of the world.
By Fr.Cresencio Suarin
I am Fr. Cresencio Suarin, from the Diocese of Pagadian, Philippines. I have been a volunteer with the Columban Fathers her in Lahore, Pakistan.
Msgr. Des Hartford concludes his diary written in captivity
I pray as best I can. Around 6 a.m. I get my first wash in 3 days from a hose downstairs. Continual conversation on the two-way radio. My release always seems to be ‘tomorrow’. My bible, breviary and rosary beads that I had requested were brought from Marawi. At 8 am. I was told to pack. The army were approaching. I was taken back to the house near the village. Feeling very low. One of my original captors brought me a cutting from the Daily Inquirer which said I would be released soon. A group of people on their way back of people on their way back to a mountain village came to look at me. One of them encouraged me to escape they seemed genuine. Their leader sat on the bed and every now and then he would spit though a tiny vent in the wall. If ever there was an international spitting contest the Maranaos would get the gold medals for accuracy. At 4:30 pm I was told to pack again. All this moving is exhausting. A 30-minutes walk to a house where there was a husband, wife and one little girl. This family is special. It is the only Christian family in the entire area. I felt relaxed. Everything was neat and simple. The little girl talked to me all the time. It seems that another rebel returnee from Lanao del Sur has brought up to 100 armed men to try to take me from the MILF. I am on the run with my guards. It is tiring and distressful because in has brought a new threat to my life. “The snares has been broken and we have escaped”. That verse of the psalm gives me a lot of hope and courage.
By Sr. Angela Jamola, fmm
Landing at Port Moresby airport, seven months ago, I thought I was in Awang airport in Cotabato City, my home province. The scenery looked familiar- the majestic coconuts, nipa palm trees, beautiful clear waving seashores which greeted me joyfully. The view changed as i bounded towards our mission station in Seim. It was just breathtaking, with the winding brown Sepik river, mountain ranges and thick rainforest.
By Ben Yalung
He is driving the helicopter through the clear sky when suddenly, an enemy chopper comes out from nowhere. Burly men in the chopper aim machine guns at him. They shoot and hit the engine of his helicopter. They chopper is exploding any minute now! Quickly, he checks the parachute strapped on his back. Then in a second, he jumps out of the chopper. The men at the other chopper. The men continue to fire at him, but he escapes their bullets and he lands safety on the ground.
By Fr. Ernesto Amigleo, cicm
Reforms, we need political and economic reforms! President Suharto and cronies, resign!
Lower the prices of commodities and gasoline! Stop corruption, collusion and nepotism!
By Bo Sanchez
How to pray when you’re not a priest or nun but a regular office employee who rides the Tamara FX to work for two hours, raises three kids who need help in their homework and does the family’s laundry during weekends.
There is no one way of praying. Continue to search for the way of prayer that enriches you, that blesses you, that allows God to speak to you more or work in your life more. You’ll know. Because I’m a writer, I pray by writing in my journal. And that blesses me immensely. I get up from my prayer time refreshed, restored, and energized! If you were to tell me that this isn’t the proper way of praying and that I should kneel down and be quite for thirty minutes, I’d tell you to ask Him why do I feel more blessed with my improper way of praying and feel totally bored and tired with so-called ‘proper’ way. Does He like to torture me and make my time with Him totally unenjoyable?
Slept quite poorly. Bananas, sky flakes, and coffee for breakfast. Then to the river to bathe and wash our clothes. The local sultan was waiting for me at the hut when I returned. He had a letter from Aleem Elias Macarandas. Elias is a very good friend of ours in the dialogue movement. He assured me in his letter that the MILF are now in charge of my security that I’m in safe hands and it is only a matter of time until I am released. More rain so most of the time is spent under the mosquito net. One of my guards is interested in English. We spend some of the afternoon translating phrases from Maranao and Visayan into English. It is frustrating to think that many people are worried because of me. This is the part of the powerless. Being held at gunpoint leaves one very few options. I feel that at times I should be more resistant. A trust has been built with my guards. Today just one guard assured me that they had nothing to do with my kidnapping.
Auring and the late Pilar Tilos
By Auring Luceño
“Don’t look too far in the future, Auring. Live life each day for you will never know what will happen tomorrow.” These were the last words I heard from Pilar that evening a few hours before she died. Auring Luceño tells the story of Pilar Tilos from Negros, her co-lay missionary in Pakistan
By Fr. Wens Padilla, cicm
Father Wens Padilla, cicm, a native of Tubao, La Union, was ordained in 1976. The next year he was sent to the mission in Taiwan, and eventually he became the Provincial Superior of the CICM Chinese Province. Then he and two other confreres were appointed the first Catholic missionaries to go to Outer Mongolia. Today there are six CICM men in Ulan is the Ulan Bator, the capital of Mongolia. Father Wens is the Superior there. He tells us of the street children apostolate which the CICM have set up in Ulan Bator.
Dorjoo and his family members were in tears as they embraced each other after not having seen one another for half a year. He was brought to his home in Darkhan, 150 miles away from Ulan Bator City, by two CICM Zairian Brothers and friends of the Catholic Church Mission. But that’s the end of the story.
